Wild
by ChristieOffTheWall
Summary: Alison won't be in hiding for much longer, not with A drawing her out and a particularly beautiful brunette begging her to stay. She feels a pull toward Emily, true, but is it really more than friendship? They're going to find out.


**Title:**** Wild**

**Pairing:**** Alison/Emily**

**Rating:**** M for mucho swearing and possible (probable) sexual explicitness.**

**Genres: Romance/Angst/Humor —tiny supernatural element in the setting**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Pretty Little Liars or any of the characters mentioned, except perhaps the few that I invent as I progress.**

**Description:**** Alison won't be in hiding for much longer, not with A drawing her out and a particularly beautiful brunette begging her to stay. She feels a pull toward Emily, true, but is it really more than friendship? They're going to find out.**

**A/N: This will have similarities to the storyline, but many liberties will be taken. I know nothing about the show **_**Ravenswood**__**.**_

**Thank you to my beta, Nikki, who is coincidentally also my girlfriend. Without her this story would not be possible, as she is the one who inspired me to write again.**

**Wild – The Naked And Famous**

_don't let the sparks run dry_

_try me to tell you why_

_would it kill you to trust someone?_

_freak out, turn and run_

_yeah it drives me wild to know_

_you won't let it show_

_dearest you're dear to me_

_I care a lot you see_

_why don't you understand?_

_you were my only friend_

_yeah it drives me wild to know_

_you won't let it show_

_bottle it up some more_

_eventually you'll pour down like a heavy rain_

_dragging your feet with pain_

_yeah it drives me wild to know_

_you won't let it show_

_yeah I'm trying my best to hold you when you're not so bold_

**Chapter One**

"Darkbloom, what did I tell you about the next time you showed up late?" Alison's unkempt manager asked, breath smelling distinctly of whiskey. While his face remained stern, his eyes maintained their playful tint. She knew he wasn't _that _angry.

"I believe you told me that I'd be out on my ass quicker than a fat kid playing dodge ball. Which, by the way, is really fucking politically incorrect. We don't say 'fat,' we say 'heavy,'" Ali replied, ducking under the wooden entry to the bar and tossing her bag in a little dust-ridden crevice hidden on the side.

Alison fought the urge to visibly shake her head as she realized how the old her from a year ago would have kicked her ass for saying that. Because really, how did she ever get enjoyment out of other people's suffering anyway?

Buck leaned forward against the countertop and chastised her as he regularly did, "Well, aren't you slicker than snot on a doorknob? That's no way for a young lady to talk."

Alison snorted and hastily pulled her hair up into a ponytail behind her. She rolled her blue long sleeves up, grabbed the half-clean rag closest to her, and began roughly wiping down the length of the bar.

"I'll let you know if I see a young lady around this bar, Bucky, so you can kick her out for being underage," she said, blowing a stray hair that landed in her eyes of her face in exasperation.

"How many times do I have to tell you _not_ to call me that, blondie?" he huffed, flexing his large muscles in an attempt to look intimidating. Once upon a time, he would have. Buck was easily six foot and all muscle aside from the beer belly protruding from his gut. He had a fully-grown beard and was a redneck to a T; he had an accent straight from Louisiana and was complete with a mermaid tattooed on his forearm. Somehow, Ali thought, he even managed to make the mermaid look menacing.

"And how many times have I told you not to call me that?" Ali responded, tossing the rag at Buck.

"Probably only twice since you've dyed it. What made you decide to do that, anyhow? Blonde suits you."

* * *

Ali had entered this frightening town all on her own under the persona of one 'Vivian Darkbloom'—one she had become accustom to using. She knew upon entering that she would have to commit to being Vivian Darkbloom indefinitely. At first, she had holed up in the vacated Hastings lake house, but left rather quickly and headed straight for Ravenswood.

There was something supernatural about Ravenswood that scared away most tourists and there were rarely ever guests. If there were family members outside of town, people left Ravenswood to visit and would then return again alone. It was difficult to get people to leave their comfort zone and enter a place that seemed to be haunted.

An eerie mist would materialize most nights without any sort of scientific explanation, screams could be heard from the cemetery with no one in sight, and doors would open and close on their own.

Ali had taken as much money as she could before disappearing from Rosewood. It was from the direction of a well-known psychic in town, Carla Grunwald, that she managed to settle herself into a tiny hole-in-the-wall apartment—one few others would approach from the looks of the outside of it.

Carla had found Alison within moments after her arrival, and although she had said that the "universe" had told her to be at that _exact_ place at that _exact_ time, Ali didn't quite believe her. How could she believe in that nonsense? It was only after her encounter with the other supernatural evidences that she grew doubtful in her conviction.

Regardless, Carla had said that the universe told her to help Alison, and she wasn't going to complain.

Carla spoke to the building manager on her behalf to get her in. Few things frightened Alison, at least that was what she voiced aloud to others, but she was undeniably afraid of this woman. Her name was Martha, but most of the townspeople had grown accustomed to referring to her as "Mad Martha."

Buck had a particularly interesting way of referring to her: "Colder than a witches tit." Then again, as Ali grew to learn over the next year, there was nothing uninteresting about Buck.

Carla seemed to have a history with Martha, stood her ground, and Vivian Darkbloom was given an apartment with the agreement that she would pay her rent in cash on the first of every month.

In the beginning, Ali cried most nights from the horrors in her past: from the betrayal of her mother to the loss of her friends, from anxiety about her anonymous tormenter. Didn't they know that she could hardly stand it anymore? Couldn't **A **understand that she would die from this?

Most nights, she thought, as she heard the unnerving scratches on her door and peculiar sounds in the night, that she would _certainly _die from this. Nevertheless, as days stretched into weeks, she remained alive and the hole inside her slowly became occupied with an all-consuming yearning to survive.

Alison put her dark wig on, careful not forget it again after her careless entrance before she ventured out one day and purchased some supplies for her apartment. She chose light colored pillows and blankets, things that would only bring warmth to an otherwise gloomy place. Her personal favorite addition was the Captain America shield nightlight she purchased, which made her room a little less terrifying at night.

Aside from the frequent recurring nightmares of a blonde woman burying her alive, Alison was almost able to sleep soundly.

Until the money was running out.

The dreary-looking bar on the corner of the street was certainly not Ali's first choice. She went from place to place, but nowhere was hiring, as the town was so small. The few places that were firmly believed that she should be in school despite the forged ID that suggested she was 21.

Frenzied, she entered the bar that day, eyes adjusting to the darkness inside and was hit first with a musty smell. She received glowering looks from the two patrons drinking in the opposite corners from one another, apparently upset that she disturbed their brooding. Ali ignored them, clenched her fists and sauntered straight up to Buck. He was repeatedly wiping a glass behind the bar and giving her an appraising look.

"I don't think you'll find what you're looking for in here, little lady," he said to her, breaking the silence and putting the glass down in the meticulously placed row of them.

Without thinking she bluntly stated, "I need a job."

"A what?" Buck was clearly taken aback by this request, crossing his arms and fighting off a smile.

At the notion of not being taken seriously again, Alison became aggressive. "A job. You know, money in exchange for services."

"I heard what you said, darlin', but I assumed you were lookin' for your daddy or somethin'." He picked up another glass to wipe, one that seemed clean enough, perhaps just for something to do.

"Definitely not looking for my family. Look, I need a job and this place could really use some cleaning up. It's not like you have any room to argue," Ali said with an eyebrow quirked, gesturing all around her to the dusty surfaces.

At this she earned a genuine smile. "You got ID?"

Alison handed him her fake and she knew he saw right through it. For a moment, he stared at her and she panicked, believing he was going to turn her away just like the rest of them.

"You can have the job—" he paused to read her name off the ID, "—_Vivian_, but only if you start right now. Grab a mop from the back, I can't remember the last time this place got a good cleaning."

Alison beamed; she really, genuinely smiled for the first time since before she left Rosewood. The muscles felt stiff and unfamiliar, but it felt _good_.

"Thank you, you won't regret this," she replied, running past him through the door.

He stood there chuckling as she could be heard running back and forth in the hall behind the bar, apparently looking for the mop.

"_Second door on your left, sweetheart!_"

And that was that. She cleaned the bar, scrubbing every last crevice until the place smelled like a lemon and bleach mixture upon entering. A couple months in, Buck, despite his better judgment decided to train Ali behind the bar.

* * *

"I guess I just got tired of the dark, Buckster," Ali said with a smirk but thought _tired of the annoying wig was more like it_. She poured Mr. Daniels his third gin and tonic. That was the cool thing about working in a small town bar; she knew almost everyone and most of the people who entered were regulars.

He growled at the newest nickname and mumbled something about her being the biggest mistake of his life. She was going to give a snarky retort when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

The rare sensation caused the rag to slip from her delicate fingers and land on the counter with a light thud. Fear shot up her spine, as she remained standing stiffly in place: this phone only vibrated for news from a world she left behind.

Ali ducked under the wood countertop, past Buck who had stopped being curious about these ominous phone calls months prior, and shoved the rusty back door open with a rush of cool air hitting her face.

"Yes?" she asked in a hard tone.

"They're in danger. Well, I think it's Emily that's in the most danger right now. The others, I believe, are just being tested," the cold familiar voice of Jenna Marshall replied.

Anger burned in Alison's blood, a white hot, scalding sensation causing the hairs on her arms to stand on end, "Location?"

"Some barn off the highway. I am texting you the directions as soon as we hang up," she replied, sounding bored.

"Then get to it," Alison hung up and paced back and forth, pressing the phone against her lips and trying not to panic.

The instant her phone buzzed she was out the door, Buck's car keys clasped firmly within her grip.

* * *

It wasn't finding Emily that was difficult, per say, the location Jenna sent her was easy enough to find with a GPS—albeit unsettling driving up the winding dirt paths to get there.

Alison let out a deep breath, one that she didn't even realize she had been holding, and shut off the engine while tapping her fingers anxiously against the steering wheel. She surveyed her surroundings and couldn't spot a single human being, or even house, nearby. All she saw was a shabby red barn, with the door shut firmly in place.

It's times like these when Alison wonders what the purpose of a barn out in the middle of nowhere could really be except for mass murder. _Really though_, she thought, _how does A find places like this?_

She removed her increasingly sweaty hands from the wheel, opened the door, and stepped onto the dirt beneath her. It was only as she slowly walked toward the barn that she realized it could be a trap. Terror flooded her veins outside the barn door, but it was out of concern for Emily's wellbeing that she surged forward and yanked it wide open.

Her heart sunk. _Emily._

Noting the car running behind her, she realized that Em had to be unconscious from the fumes and being locked in there with them. Ali gently, but nevertheless steadily, put her hands on Emily's shoulders and pulled her slightly off the floor—not without effort.

She pulled Emily outside into the fresh air, letting her legs drag across the ground until she reached the warm earth to let her down on. The sun beat down on them as Ali shifted to sitting, placing Em's upper half across her lap. The birds were chirping overhead, and for a moment she considered how much scarier this would have been had it been nighttime.

Alison was _certain _that the rise and fall of Emily's chest was a sign that she would be all right.

"_Wake up, wake up_," she whispered as a repeated mantra, so low it was questionable she was even saying the words aloud. Ali lightly brushed the hair away from Emily's face, running her fingers through the soft brown locks that smelled so familiar as the wind carried the scent.

Emily stirred, slowly opening her eyes and taking in her surroundings. Alison, relieved, smiled brightly down at her damsel no longer in distress.

Em's wide brown eyes met Alison's and she felt an explosion of heat at the bottom of her stomach. _How long has it been since I have looked into her eyes? _She wondered, but the answer seemed like a lifetime.

Alison felt Emily shift a little beneath her, perhaps in fear, and so she said, "It's okay, you're with me now." And as she said it, she knew she would always keep her safe like this.

Emily finally choked out, "_Alison?_" in disbelief, gazing at the blonde above her in what appeared to Alison as reverence.

Ali smiled at this reaction and despite having broken her cover again since Hanna's accident, that was truly the farthest thing from her mind. "It's so good to see you, Emily. I think I missed you the most," she said truthfully, enjoying the feeling of the brunette in her lap. She meant every word.

At this, Emily jumped. Alison realized that she must seem like a hallucination to some greater injury that Emily _must _have to explain her "undead" appearance. To soothe her, hallucination or not, Ali stroked her head and shushed her, "Just rest, it's what you need. Rest."

Emily gazed up at Alison in adoration and shock, but refused to close her eyes._ Maybe she's afraid that if she closes her eyes I won't be here when she opens them again, _Ali thought with a pang of sadness at that particular truth.

To pacify her, Ali told her something that caused her heart to skip a beat in nervousness, "I never told you this, but you were always my favorite." As an afterthought, while twirling the brown hair in between her fingers she added, "Nobody loved me as much as you did."

And then Emily did something that broke Alison's heart: she thought that only in death would she find Alison, which was her most horrible lie to date. Well, second only to the concept that she would only be this nice or loving to her in practice or in Emily's dreams. Emily asked breathlessly, "Is this what dying is?"

Ali's fists clenched, how could anyone have ever tried to kill such a beautiful person? Fucking A. "That bitch thinks this is what you really want, to be completely free of A."

"Do you know who A is?" Emily asked in excitement, in a hunger for the knowledge that has been unfailingly held from them.

Alison knows that for this to continue to seem to be a hallucination, she has to lie and pretend to be omniscient. Only after death and in dreams do everyone know everything.

"Of course I do," _lie_ _#124782374_, she thought and frowned.

Em jerked and begged, "You have to tell me."

Ali looked away, trying to bury her guilt deep inside her. She shook her head and said, "I don't think that's a good idea," _because I don't actually know who A is and I'm a huge liar_.

"Why?" Emily pleaded.

_Finally, _Alison thought, _an opportunity for me to be honest_. "Because two can only keep a secret if one of them is dead."

At this, Emily looked more confused and dejected than ever.

As she looked down at the girl beneath her, believing with every fiber of her being that Emily was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen, she was determined to never be without her again. She realized that if Emily faked her death too, and left with her, she could _finally _be honest. She would be able tell Em everything.

Alison took a breath and gave Emily the choice before she could mentally talk herself out of it, "You have to decide what you want, Emily. You can stay here, or you can come with me."

Emily looked shocked, but slowly drained and was falling asleep. Severely disappointed but knowing it was for the best, Alison ran her finger down the side of Emily's face.

"Sweet Emily," she whispered, longing for one last kiss.

Without thinking, Ali bent down and lightly brushed her lips against Em's in a chaste kiss that shot butterflies throughout her stomach. Forget about stomach, she felt as though she was flying and that every nerve was surging pleasure around her body stemming from this slight kiss.

She sat up, took one last look at Emily who had now fallen asleep, and let out a low breath.

_How foolish of me to have ever deluded myself into thinking I was kissing her for practice._

* * *

The drive home to Ravenswood was bittersweet, filled with relief and sadness. Alison felt old wounds ripped open, fresh grief pouring out of each one. After those first few months away from her old life, she steeled herself against the memories and began to forget exactly what it felt like.

Now, after seeing Emily—no, holding Emily in her arms—_kissing her_, that's something fresh and raw tearing her apart with every mile she puts in between them.

Ali bit at her nail to keep herself from turning the car around. She wondering if Emily was awake yet, if she was alone or if one of the others found her, if she remembered her encounter with Ali at all or if it was forgotten as if it were but a dream.

_If only_, she thought, still feeling the tingles across her lips.

Pulling back into Buck's parking spot, she prepared herself for the quizzical looks she would receive upon entering.

She had better just get it over with. She pushed through the same rusty back door she had used to leave earlier and almost ran right into Buck, who was standing with his arms crossed and looking down at her angrily.

"Now listen here—" he began.

"Buck, listen, there was an emergency. I can't really talk about it but—"

"I never minded you borrowin' the car. God knows I ain't got nowhere else to be. But every once in a while you disappear as though a ghost gotcha and has pulled you into a ghost world or some shit. When you first got here you was as desperate as a mouse in a room full o' cats, lookin' for a job, and even though you gotta trash fake ID that's about as real as Mrs. Patterson's titties, I gave you one,"

Ali cracked a smile at that, because everyone remembered when Mrs. Patterson was flat as a board and came in one day sporting breasts completely disproportionate to her size.

"And you know somethin'? I've always been wonderin' where your parents are at and what you're doin' all alone in a place like this. But I never asked, did I? I let you do your thing and I pay you and you do a damn good job in my bar, I'm proud of you like I would be my own daughter if I done had one. I care about you, you hear me? And I know you're about to spew some bullshit about how you had an emergency and that's quite all right. Next time you're ready to bolt, just let your big ol' boss know if and when you'll be back. You hear?"

Alison felt a strange warmth spread throughout her chest, something she hadn't felt in a long time. He _worried _about her, like a dad would. Maybe how her own dad would have, in a different lifetime.

"Aw, shucks Bucky, you're such a softy," she teased, smacking him playfully on the arm.

"That's enough of that, thank you. Get back to work," he said grumpily with a pink tint appearing above his beard, turning his head in the direction of a familiar disgusting sound in the distance. "In fact, I think Billy just vomited. Have fun, you little wise ass."

Ali sighed but continued to smile, feeling content with her life here. She couldn't help but feeling, though, that it wasn't the life she was supposed to be living.

And while she went to grab the mop from the familiar closet, her thoughts drifted to one Emily Fields before her phone buzzed again in her pocket.

This time not a phone call but a text message from an anonymous number instilling dread in Alison's heart. It had only one word:

_Gotcha. -A_

* * *

**Disclaimer: I used part of Season 2, Episode 12. It is not mine. You know what I'm referring to.**


End file.
